


Free Fall - Special Edition

by WynCatastrophe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:14:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynCatastrophe/pseuds/WynCatastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, they changed the galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Butterfly Effect

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Freefall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/117824) by [WynCatastrophe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynCatastrophe/pseuds/WynCatastrophe). 



> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars.  This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it. 

 

Author's note: So this is a revision of my story Freefall (posted here on AO3).  Actually, it's only a revision of the first part of the first chapter - I am taking it slow.  Essentially I think I have a better grasp of where I'm wanting to go with this crazy beast than I did when I started out with it (a couple of years ago, in a battered old spiral-bound notebook).  Along the way, I've learned a lot about both reader expectations and my own writing style, and I have hopes that incorporating some of the lessons I've learned will result in a better, more gripping, easier-to-follow narrative for all involved.  (If you want to know more of the boring details, I encourage you to check out my LiveJournal page - same username as AO3).  Anyway, I am excited about revamping the project and putting it out there for readers both new and old.  If this is your first encounter with this story - welcome!  And if you've read one or more of the stories from this 'verse in a previous incarnation - welcome anyway! :) 

 

Special thanks go to    
  
[   
  
**hikarific**   
  
](http://hikarific.livejournal.com/)   
  
, who not only took the time to read all of the original Freefall document on AO3 (coming in at just under 60,000 words, no mean feat), but also offered me pages of thoughtful commentary on structure, style, and characterization.  I hope she will find that her efforts have been rewarded by the resulting product!

 

As always, but even more than usual, feedback will be very welcome. :) 

 

______________________________

 

THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

 

  
_rearrange the stars_   


  
_and make them all your own_   


  


  
_~ “Love Alone,” Thriving Ivory_   


 

 

She sat cross-legged, hands up-turned on her knees, fingers relaxed and slightly curled, her back almost but not quite perfectly straight, and smoothed the frown from her sharp young face for the seventeenth time in the last five minutes (and yes, she was counting).  Master Yoda insisted that controlling the body was the first step toward controlling the mind.  

 

 

 

So far, Ryn was a spectacular failure at both.

 

 

 

The frown came back, sneaking onto her face, the tiny pulling of little muscle groups belying her effort at serenity.

 

 

 

  
_Damn._   


 

 

 

She took a deep breath and started over, visualizing the muscles beneath the smooth skin of her forehead and telling them, one by one, to relax.

 

 

 

_Good._ As long as nobody looked too closely, she looked like every dutiful Jedi-in-training the Temple hosted.

 

 

 

 

And something blazed in her mind, a disturbance that was as much in her psyche - _sykhe_ , she used the old native word in her own head - as it was in the Force she could barely sense: a Presence, bright and fiery, buoyant with possibilities.  Another Being, unfamiliar and compelling, so fiercely _alive_.  This was the source of the feeling she'd been fighting all morning, the nervous edge of excitement that defied all her attempts at calm, every effort to please Masters Yoda and Windu by making herself perfectly passive and pliant— something that had never made much sense to Ryn, because if you made an act of will, even over yourself, then that had to be _active,_ which would seem to make this determined passivity self- defeating. 

 

 

Or maybe she was just missing the point altogether. 

 

 

But now the presence was _here,_ and Ryn let curiosity get the better of her.  She scrambled to her feet and headed toward the Presence, drawn to it without any need for conscious thought (not that this stopped her from worrying a little along the way). 

 

 

She followed the feeling down, toward the lower levels of the Jedi Temple, the open places she rarely visited,, trying to pay attention so that she didn't run straight into a wall (her curiosity did not come with directions). The feeling got stronger as she went, and her feet hurried of their own accord, down stairs and around corners, sorting through the intricate maze of the Temple's corridors. Suddenly she felt that Presence on the same level as herself, frustratingly close but now definitely moving _away._ She ran around two more corners, just to work off her frustration, and then 

 

 

.. _Smack._

 

 

 

She ran headlong into something warm and solid, something that triggered a flash of pain in her head, where she'd hit it, but that wasn't going to be a problem, because, suddenly and unexpectedly, she was bathed in light, suffused with it, a radiant energy that swept through all her cells and made her feel _alive_ in a way she never had before.

 

 

 

It was intoxicating, and she let her eyes fall shut to savor the experience, giving herself over to it, forgetting her name and her mission and everything else for that one, perfect instant as she hung suspended - between _before_ and _after_ , caught in the moment of _becoming_ , the leap in the dark that felt like flying. 

 

 

 

Some time later, she head voices and opened her eyes.

 

 

 

She was lying on her back in a brightly lit hallway, while two men in Jedi robes knelt over her, their faces concerned.

 

 

  
_What?_   


 

 

 

"I'm sorry," she said automatically, not even sure what she was apologizing for. She couldn’t think yet - her brain wouldn’t work right.  She felt dizzy, thrown out of her element, lost after that rush of unexpected joy. 

 

 

 

"No, _I_ 'm sorry," said the younger of the two Jedi—a Padawan, actually, his status proclaimed by the thin braid worn behind his right ear. His voice was low and husky, inexplicably vibrating in Ryn's own chest. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

 

 

 

He leaned forward over her, his fingers threading through her hair— _checking for head injuries,_ she realized—and she barely heard him asking, gently, "Are you all right?" because something, suddenly, became very clear, a knowledge that washed over her like a crashing wave, drowning everything else.

 

 

 

She had spent the last two years listening to girls talk about boys and wondering what all the fuss was about, or what was wrong with her that she didn't have those same feelings. Physically, everything appeared to be on schedule, her organs taking on the shape and rhythms of an adult human female; and it had been well over a year—almost two, really—since she had experienced that first dark gush of blood that signaled her readiness to do her part in continuing the species.

 

 

Except she wasn't interested. Until now.

 

 

She had waited patiently, all this time, wondering why she didn't feel the same strange compulsion to mix with the opposite sex that her peers were exhibiting at every turn, even in the precincts of the Temple. And she had been an outsider, an observer, watching these mysteries without a glimmer of understanding. But now it was obvious. She had been waiting, her body ready but her feelings dormant, for exactly this moment: so that right here, right now, this young man with the warm hands and the intense blue eyes could touch her and bring her suddenly to vivid, brilliant life, so that every nerve that had never known quite what to do with itself before could sizzle into action and all the connections that had been missing could fire into place and her blood could sing in her ears and the pulse in her veins could push her, in the space between one breath and the next, over the threshold between the innocence of childhood and the heady knowledge of new womanhood.

 

  
_Oh._

 

_  
_

All the mystic knowledge, deeply embodied awareness, that she had given up on ever discovering for herself –– what her trainers had given up on, too.  Fierce and heady and a little disconcerting.  

 

 

The Padawan and his Master were still looking down at her with concern, unaware that her life had just changed, that _she_ had just changed, dramatically, and that the woman lying on the floor beneath them was not the same as the girl who had skidded around the corner.

 

 

 

She had to say something.

 

 

 

"You have an overwhelming presence," she said distinctly, fighting to find herself in the psychic maelstrom that was this young man's aura—unmistakably the Presence that had been wrecking her concentration all morning. It was an effort to be aware of herself, her own boundaries, her separateness, in the midst of that compelling energy.

 

 

 

The youth didn't seem to know how to answer this. His Master took over the situation with more than Jedi calm, with the deep unshakeableness of a truly grounded soul. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said, his voice low and reassuring—not the throaty tiger-purr of his apprentice, but a well-modulated instrument with a warm tone. "This is my Padawan-learner, Anakin Skywalker. Are you injured?"

 

 

 

Ryn nodded, registering this information, then shook her head abruptly as his question penetrated the layers of confusion. "My name is A ––” and then suddenly she didn’t want to give them the formal mode of address, not when she felt the younger one intimately already, humming in her senses “ ––Ryn Orun," she finished, easing back a little, breaking Skywalker's contact with her arm as she set her palms to the floor and pushed herself, a little gingerly, to a sitting position. She was floundering for an explanation that didn't sound utterly crazed when she saw that Kenobi was eying her thoughtfully.

 

 

 

"Master Yoda has mentioned you," he said, studying her as thought she were a puzzle to be solved —much as Yoda did, actually.

 

 

 

Ryn could not help but feel a twinge of resentment at being eyed this way _again,_ but she pushed it doggedly aside. He didn't know her and was never going to, so of course his primary interest in her existence was scientific, not personal. After nearly a year in the Temple, she really ought to be used to the scrutiny.  Besides, it eliminated awkward explanations about her talent —or, in this case, liability. So she sucked in a deep breath, letting the air clear her mind, trying to ignore the fact that the air seemed to be permeated with Skywalker, like the smell of the air before a storm, sharp and somehow electric, charged with energy. She nodded on the exhale, studiously not looking at Kenobi's apprentice. "Yes ... well ... your apprentice has an unusually strong presence. I'm afraid I was momentarily overwhelmed ... but I'm fine, now."

 

 

 

Skywalker's aura, just to her right, became tinged with chagrin, and Ryn risked a quick glance to toss him a friendly grin that she hoped said _no hard feelings_ and not _you just changed my life._ "It's only fair. You knock out my psychic walls and I bruise your shins."

 

 

 

The Padawan snorted a laugh, accepting her friendly tone more than her dubious logic. He had a fantastic smile, bright and warm and utterly guileless. "Can we escort you somewhere? Assist you somehow?" Kenobi asked, impossibly solicitous. Ryn shook her head as she tilted forward, getting her legs under her and pushing to her feet, an action that seemed to take a great deal more concentration than she usually gave it. "No, thank you. I'm certain you have other duties, and I will be myself again momentarily."

 

 

 

Kenobi gave his apprentice an admonishing look, and Anakin, just scrambling—with a curious economy of movement that somehow mingled the grace of a natural athlete with the awkward of a teenage boy—to his feet, glanced hastily at Ryn, obviously embarrassed and, also obviously, resentful at being embarrassed, a resentment Ryn sensed he was transferring to her.  There was a sort of transparency to him, his feelings running near the surface. "I apologize. I did not meant to cause you distress."

 

 

 

Ryn flashed him a another smile—a little shaky, but nonetheless genuine. "You didn't. Actually, I found the experience fascinating." She bowed to Kenobi. "Don't let me keep you."

  


  



	2. make it if it takes all night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin isn't too sure about their new acquaintance, and just why does he spend so much time in the Senate District, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.

  
**Part Two**   


  
__

__

  


  
_Hold on we're going to make it if it takes all night  
Hearts racing like a rocket at the speed of light  
Don't fight it we've been running for far too long  
Hold on we've got our wings and we're chasing the wind  
Farewell to all the places we have been...  
               ~ "Where We Belong," Thriving Ivory_   


  


  
. . .

  
"You are troubled," Obi-Wan Kenobi observed to his apprentice as they climbed to the upper levels of the Temple.   


  
Anakin made a frustrated noise, as much at being so transparent as anything. "I don't like being looked at like some sort of curiosity. It makes me feel uncomfortable."   


  
"You refer to the young woman we met downstairs," Obi-Wan said. It should have been a question, but his tone betrayed no hint of interrogative. "I think it's safe to say her interest in you was far from academic."   


  
Anakin was not so easily convinced. "She said she found the experience  _fascinating._ " He imbued the word  _fascinating_ with impressive disdain.   


  
"You must learn to attune your senses to listen to people's feelings, as well as their words," Obi- Wan told him. "Use all your perceptions. She was keenly attracted to you."   


  
"Of course she was." Anakin's lip curled. "I'm an interesting specimen."   


  
Obi-Wan permitted himself a small smile. "And a very attractive young man. Do not underestimate the effects physical magnetism can have on the untrained mind. Animal instincts are hard to ignore."   


  
Anakin's face twisted in disgust. "I don't want to be part of her  _animal instincts_!"   


  
"You had better get used to it," Obi-Wan advised him. "You are at an age when females are beginning to see you as more than a child to be doted on. And there are members of both sexes who will be curious about a Jedi's prowess, drawn to the perception of power like moths to flame. From now on, fending off unwanted advances will be a part of your life."   


  
"Ugh!" Anakin exclaimed. "She's not going to make any  _advances,_ is she?"   


  
"Her  _name_ ,” Obi-Wan said with gentle remonstrance, “is Ryn Orun.  And no, I don't think it likely. I have heard of her before, as I said. She is something of a special project for the Jedi Council –– her planet sent her as a representative after one of our Knights was killed on her world, in some local dispute.  A gesture of good will, in keeping with their customs.  Master Yoda is particularly eager to learn more about their ways.”    


  
Anakin absorbed this information in quiet concentration. “Then she is being stared at all the time, too.” He didn't wait for Obi-Wan to agree before asking,  “What’s so special about her?”    


  
Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh. Anakin was so ambitious, so determined to be the best at everything— a legacy, perhaps, of his childhood as a slave, but in any case a poor quality in a Jedi. Jealousy of power or position was a characteristic more fitted to a Sith than a member of the Jedi Order. “I believe she was a person of some importance on her homeworld - a member of their nobility, or some such thing.  More than that, Miss Orun shows a remarkable, but not entirely predictable, talent for empathy –– along with a highly erratic ability to sense the Force.  That might be no more than poor training ... or it might be something else.  Master Yoda feels that the empathy may have its source in her genetic structure, rather than directly in the Force itself. We don't know nearly as much as we would like about the inhabitants of Loreth. It's something of a surprise that Orun even came here.”   


  
“Well, then, why did she?” Anakin demanded, losing patience with the slow progression of his Master's thoughts.   


  
“Patience,” Obi-Wan reminded him, because that was his duty. Then, thoughtfully:    


  
“I don’t know.”    


  
*   


  
Ryn lay back on her narrow bunk and considered her meeting with Anakin Skywalker and the surprising effect it—well,  _he_ —had had on her. She had heard of him before today, of course; how could one live anywhere near the Jedi Temple and not know of Obi-Wan Kenobi's extraordinarily gifted, deeply controversial young Padawan? But their paths had never crossed, and Ryn had never expected them to. The Council kept Kenobi hopping, taking his young apprentice on mission after mission, and Ryn was kept busy in her own way, undergoing Master Yoda's numerous tests, striving to understand and master her own talents while at the same time re-channeling them into something the Jedi could accept, or at least learn to live with. Longing for home, as she tried not to long for a life of her own. She was the sacrifice, the price, the stand-in to buy her people's honor. It was part of the treaty; it was her duty; it was what she was born to do. If her people's happiness had demanded that she die for them, Ryn was sure she would have done it without hesitation, gladly.   


  
Living in captivity for them was much harder. And now there was Skywalker. Just in case things weren't complicated enough.   


  
It ought to be easy to forget him, to put him out of her mind—since they had essentially nothing in common and weren't likely to meet each other ever again –– but Ryn knew, with the deep certainty she had always had about some things—real things, the things that mattered—that this was quite impossible. She could never go back and unfeel what she had felt that afternoon; she could never recapture the innocence of all desire. And she wasn't sure she would want to, in any case. Prurience was bound to catch up with her sooner or later, for goodness' sake. Why it should dawn on her so suddenly, precipitated by the single experience of meeting one young man, was a puzzle of its own. He was a powerful presence, no doubt about it, but Ryn had sensed a lot of powerful presences and never felt anything remotely like the electricity that had sizzled through her nerves today. He was certainly attractive, but  _attractive_  was nothing new to a girl born and raised on Loreth. Scientists had been clamoring for centuries to figure out just what was the magic combination of fabulous genetics and planetary phenomena that gave the humans of Loreth their extraordinary symmetry of form and unusually high levels of pheromones. And the Jedi Temple itself was full of remarkably athletic bodies, a good place to start.  If merely physical qualities had been sufficient to excite her interest, surely she would have blossomed into concupiscence long ago.     


  
She sighed and flung one arm over her head, bunching a rather thin Temple-issue pillow up against her shoulder. Sometimes, she knew, there were no reasons. Sometimes things just  _were_. The question was: what to do about it?   


  
What she wanted to do was to get to know this Anakin Skywalker better, find out if her instincts about him were right.  See if he fired all her nerves again.  That probably meant that a second encounter wasn’t such a good idea. Most things she wanted were bad ideas: like stealing a shuttle and flying home, or telling Master Yoda where he could put his meditation exercises next time. Or dashing around corners in hopes of falling into the same (strong, so thoughtlessly  _vital_ ) set of arms a second time.   


  
She sighed again, feeling more rebellious than usual—probably because she spent so much of her time refusing to  _feel_ anything at all—and wondered when had been the last time she had done anything just because she wanted to. She had a strange sense that it might have been  _never._ Surviving Coruscant was one kind of nightmare, but it wasn't as though life on Loreth had been any great pleasure ride, either.  This was the life she shared with the  _athelani_  –– life of sacrifice, a life lived for others. It was her calling, her duty, her inheritance.    


  
And maybe, sometimes, her curse.   


  
She thrust aside the twinge of guilt she felt at acknowledging that thought.  She didn’t have to like her duty, she just had to  _do_ it.  Not even Loreth was cruel enough to demand she do it gladly.    


  
So what she  _wanted_ to do right now was to follow that current of feeling that was tugging at her senses and see if he was free for moruna juice, over which they could have a nice, normal conversation, during which she would definitely  _not_ say anything like, "You changed my life and I think I liked it."    


 

  
_Right._   


  
But she had no business trying to see a Jedi Padawan in the first place, and hunting a boy down just because you ran into him— _literally_ —and enjoyed the experience was not only lame, it was also just a little bit creepy. Nobody liked a stalker.   


  
But on the other hand, if she stretched out her senses—and she could definitely still feel him, somewhere nearby—just to see if she could tell where he was, and she followed that tug of feeling, just to see if she really could find him that way—well, that was just testing out her abilities. An experiment, like the ones the Council made her do all the time. She'd never felt anyone's aura this strongly before; it was worth investigating. Master Yoda would be proud.   


 

  
_That is the biggest rationalization I've ever heard._   


  
She was being ridiculous, lying there debating the prospective creepiness of tracking Skywalker through the maze of Temple corridors, to see if she could –– and also, of course, because she'd like to see if that wild tingle from this afternoon was still there, or if she'd somehow imagined it, made it better and stronger in her mind than it really was—but she didn't seem able to help herself. She couldn't stop thinking about it, and she certainly couldn't go to sleep.   


  
In the end she made what she thought was a reasonable compromise between duty and longing: she would stop lying in her bed, struggling uselessly to go to sleep, or to think of other things, and walk down to one of the gardens, open to the night sky (such as it was, full of the lights of Coruscant). There she would meditate, and attempt to pinpoint Skywalker's location, and someone else's, too (probably Master Yoda's), as a control, and then she would wait until tomorrow to go to Master Yoda and tell him of her efforts, so that he could check and see whether she had been right in sensing the locations, and also so that she wouldn't feel quite so sneaky, as though she were spying on a stranger. And then, if she was feeling really brave after talking to Yoda (decidedly unlikely, but still possible), she could seek Skywalker out through normal channels (say, by asking around among the other Padawans) and ask him if he liked moruna juice. If he said yes, fantastic. If he said no ... well, the hell with him anyway.   


  
She pushed aside the light blanket and stood to pull on her civilian clothes, not the ones she would have worn at home but a reasonable approximation of her old Ranger gear, dark leggings and short tunic cut close to the body out of a stretchy fabric for ease of movement.  They didn’t do much for her undersized bust –– Ryn was fast coming to the dismal conclusion that she just wasn’t going to expand any more in that area; she was still awfully small for a Lorethan, but she didn’t seem to be getting any taller, and the voluptuous figure she’d hoped for remained well out of reach. She shrugged a worn jacket, rather too big for her, over the top: a concession to the cool night air.   


  
In the garden, several stories below but not yet at the lower levels of the Temple, Ryn took deep breaths and tried to relax, to clear her mind. Unfortunately, her mind was still clouded with Skywalker—whose presence, while calmer and less overwhelming now, was still like the charged atmosphere just before a storm: heady and intoxicating, impossible to ignore.   


  
_Concentrate,_ she heard Yoda's voice saying, echoing in her mind for maybe the thousandth time.  _I'm trying,_ she thought, and then stopped, caught by an idea.   


 

Instead of fighting to clear her mind of all thought and all sensation, for the first time since coming to Coruscant she gave herself over to a rush of feeling, accepting it, diving headlong into it. And then she turned with her eyes closed and pointed. Skywalker was ...  _there._

  
Ryn opened her eyes and looked to where she was pointing: out of the garden, over the confines of the Temple, across the dazzling nightscape of Coruscant.   


  
She frowned, trying to remember what lay in that direction. It was part of the political district, containing the Great Rotunda in which the Senate met, the offices of various dignitaries and public officials, and, at a somewhat greater distance, the enormous gravity of 500 Republica. A Jedi Knight might visit any or all of these places by day; the duty of Jedi to the Republic put them in frequent (though not always happy) contact with politicians of every stripe. But it seemed an odd time for such business to be conducted. The hour was little before midnight, and Jedi, for the most part, kept remarkably steady hours. Most Padawans should be in bed by now, not hobnobbing with the rich, famous, and deeply corrupt.   


  
_Forget it. Monitoring Skywalker's bedtime is Kenobi's job,_ she told herself firmly.   


  
Pushing Kenobi's apprentice to the back of her mind proved impossible, so in the end she just tried to work  _through_  her awareness of his presence, letting it penetrate her, become part of her reality instead of an outside force. It took her a few tries, but at last she thought she could point to Yoda, high up in one of the Temple spires, his aura calm and unruffled. She supposed it would be easier if she could use the Force more and her own unsteady sense of empathy less; but so far, much to Yoda's frustration, that had proven impossible.    


 

  
_Or inconvenient. A really bad idea._   


  
That line of thinking was dangerous, so she shut it down and reminded herself that right here, right now, she had the Force perception of a reasonably functional amoeba.    


 

  
_You're here. Now. Can't change that. Get a grip._   


  
Something stirred, a subtle shift in the sense of the air around her, and Ryn moved her gaze to a small doorway on the far side of the garden just before Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped through it.   


  
The Jedi Master's eyes flickered in surprise, a reaction swiftly controlled.   


 

Ryn could almost hear Yoda’s voice:  _No such thing as coincidence, there is._

  
She bowed politely. "Master Kenobi," she greeted him –– holding her vowels tense, her consonants crisp, in imitation of the precise diction of Coruscant's upper crust.   


  
Kenobi inclined his head, his manners impeccable. "Miss Orun."   


  
Ryn flinched at the courtesy title, so different from the one she had held on her homeworld. She had gotten used, by now, to being addressed by only her first name; accepting a civilian courtesy title, however well-intentioned, was another matter entirely.  _Not his fault,_ she reminded herself sternly.   


  
"I can leave, if you would prefer your privacy," she told him, still jealously guarding every syllable for accent.   


  
Kenobi smiled, blue eyes creasing at the corners, ever so slightly. "I believe that it was I who interrupted you."    


  
"It was no interruption, I assure you," Ryn answered quickly. "In fact, I was just leaving. If you will excuse me." She made a break for it that she felt sure was at least half as dignified as she would have liked, but Kenobi's voice caught her before she had made it halfway to the exit.   


  
"One moment, please. If I could impose briefly on your time."   


  
Ryn smoothed a wince from her face as she turned back to face the Jedi Master. "How may I help you, Master Kenobi?"   


  
"I was wondering: can you explain at all why my Padawan affected you so strongly this afternoon?"   


  
_Fate._     


  
Ryn shrugged. "Insufficient training and control on my part."   


  
Kenobi frowned at her, through her, seeing things behind her green eyes that she would rather have hidden. "I see. Does this happen often?"   


  
Ryn could feel her muscles tightening, readying for fight or flight, when neither was feasible.  _Not good. Stay calm._ "No. Never before."   


  
_I knew that,_ Kenobi's look said. "Then how do you know that's the only explanation?"    


  
"I don't."   


  
Kenobi studied her for a long moment, as though she were a particularly difficult puzzle he wasn't quite sure how to solve.   


  
"We seem to have gotten off to a bad start," he said finally. "Perhaps we could try again."    


  
Ryn watched him, waiting.   


  
Kenobi cleared his throat. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I am intrigued by the way you responded to my apprentice this afternoon. I would be grateful for your insights."   


  
Ryn drew herself up to her full height—pretty respectable for a human female in most parts of the galaxy, but still shorter than Kenobi —and spoke distinctly, all the smarting pride of a young aristocrat rising to the fore and stiffening her spine, a vice coming for once to her rescue. "I am afraid I have little insight to offer, Master Kenobi. As I said, this experience was entirely unique, so I have nothing with which to compare it. Any attempt at an analysis at this point would be altogether speculative, and therefore highly suspect."   


  
"I understand." Ryn thought that was unlikely, but she saw no need to say so. "If it would no cause you undue stress, however, I wonder if you might consent to meet with us tomorrow, and attempt to explore this mystery further?"   


 

On the one hand, she would see Anakin Skywalker again.  _No, no, bad idea. Don't think that way._ On the other, it had all the makings of a very awkward meeting.  _That’s right.  Stay smart.  Don’t get distracted._

  
"My time is not my own, Master Kenobi. If you wish to enlist my services, such as they are, then you must speak with Master Yoda. I will do his bidding, of course." She bowed again. "Good night, Master Kenobi."   


  
*   


  
Ryn broke into a trot almost as soon as she was out of Obi-Wan's sight, jogged down a corridor until she realized she had no idea where she was going, and finally stopped cold and slid down with her back against a smooth permacrete wall, crouching with her head bent nearly to her knees.   


 

 _You are being ridiculous,_ she scolded herself.  _You have developed an adolescent crush, and now you are so obsessed that meeting with his_ teacher _makes you act giddy! Get a grip!_

  
But it was more than that, she knew. She had all the symptoms of what Master Ki-Adi-Mundi called SRI (Sudden Romantic Obsession), so common among adolescent humans as to be banal; but there was more.  There was Anakin Skywalker. Ryn didn't just think the object of her unprecedented interest was special; through her extended senses she could  _feel_ him, and she _knew_.   


  
_That's probably what every girl thinks,_ she told herself; but she wasn't very convincing.   


  
And so, even more so than most teenage girls experiencing love —  _or, well, lust_ — for the first time, Ryn felt torn between her eagerness to see Anakin Skywalker again and her feelings of awkwardness and embarrassment, with a healthy admixture of curiosity thrown in, just to keep things interesting: What did Anakin's powerful personal gravity  _mean_ , anyway? And was it only affecting her, or was he subtly altering the psyches—temporarily, at least—of everyone who passed within his sphere? Were the Jedi immune? Just how did he  _do_ that, anyway? And was this the source of his physical attractiveness, or just an added bonus? And ...   


 

 _No more_ ands, Ryn told herself sternly.  _Go to bed. Let these questions answer themselves in their own time._

  
That was good advice, if she could take it; but somehow Ryn felt that if she could drag herself back to her room and put herself to bed, then that would be all the mental discipline she could handle for the evening. With a sigh, she pushed off and headed for the repulsorlift.    


  
It was going to be a long night.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular piece of the revision brings us up to the end of the original first chapter. I decided not to do the red text thing because it doesn't read well in all browsers, but you can still access the older version here. The changes for the most part were about giving readers (hopefully) a sense of the characters' emotional reality instead of descriptions of their physical appearance and surroundings. This was particularly important with Ryn, as she is an original character and readers won't have the same background to bring to understanding her character that they most likely will for Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Yoda. (There will be other characters, canon and original, introduced later in the story, but this is the cast for the first chapter.)
> 
> I removed several adjectives describing Ryn's personal appearance -- is it really important for readers to know that her arm is "slender" at this point in the story? Not so much. Wait and let another character notice those details later. Removing descriptors like that had (I think) the added benefit of putting us more in Ryn's head during her POV scenes -- how many of us really notice, in a moment of great distress, that we have slender arms or a nice ass or whatever else? We're not thinking about those things, we're thinking about our problems. So the characters should probably be doing the same. I have hikarific to thank for general suggestions in that area.
> 
> These also led to severely curtailing a description of the outfit Ryn puts on late in the chapter, before going outside, and rewriting what's still there as an explanation that hints at her past training (the Ranger thing, which won't become important until several stories later, but it's nice to have it in mind now and go back and set that up a little better, foreshadowing future plotlines a bit). In other words, it became a matter of asking myself at each point, "Why do I want readers to know this? What is this line doing for the story?" Several lines of Anakin and Obi-Wan's dialogue were changed for similar reasons: to make them foreshadow upcoming plots better, and to give a better idea of the Master/Apprentice relationship that exists between these two specific people -- so that, hopefully, it reads as being as much about Anakin and Obi-Wan themselves as it does a commentary on their immediate situation.
> 
> That's part of the overriding goal of this revision process: one of the main things I'm doing is reconstructing scenes at the sentence level to make them carry more weight for the long story. If a line can multiple things at once -- say, for instance, reveal Anakin's inner conflict, demonstrate Obi-Wan's distrust of politicians, and suggest that Yoda is concerned about the failure of peacekeeping actions in a distant starsystem -- then it is obviously worth more than a line that carries only one task at a time. Getting rid of empty descriptors is one way to make a leaner, cleaner text … but another part of the project is to make each line mean more, laying a stronger foundation through better (re)engineering …
> 
> And I'd love to know what you think! Leave me a comment and offer suggestions, critiques, squees, and general feedback. :)


	3. it won't be the first heart that you break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan follows up on a funny feeling; Anakin commits a random act of compassion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Last Beautiful Girl," by Matchbox 20. Oddly, it does not refer to a female character …

**Author's note:**  Okay! So, this is the (finished? more nearly finished? much improved, anyway) version of what used to be Chapter Two and is now Part III. Since the previous draft, I've adjusted some of the dialogue so that (I hope) it flows better; I've also written some more material from Obi-Wan's POV, and I had intended to post it concurrently with this, but then I felt that it didn't  _fit_  anywhere in the current chapter. So, coming up next (later today, or at least that's the plan) … new Obi-Wan stuff! In which he wrangles with Jedi philosophy and the promptings of the Force. 

 **Special thanks**  go out to 

[ **pronker**](http://pronker.livejournal.com/)

  
 ,   


[ **estora**](http://estora.livejournal.com/)

  
 ,   


[ **chameleon_irony**](http://chameleon-irony.livejournal.com/)

  
 ,   


[ **kittywriter**](http://kittywriter.livejournal.com/)

  
 , and   


[ **hikarific**](http://hikarific.livejournal.com/)

  
 , all of whom have generously offered thoughtful input that has made this chapter much better than it had any right to be. All missteps, typos, and plot holes are mine own … 

 **Disclaimer** : George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it. 

  
 _Hands touch, eyes meet  
Sudden silence, sudden heat.  
Hearts leap in a giddy world -   
He could be that boy  
But I'm not that girl.   
         ~ "I'm Not That Girl,"  
         WICKED soundtrack _

The first thing Obi-Wan did the next morning was to call Orun’s bluff.

 

He left Anakin in the Temple Archives, with instructions to learn everything he could about the planet Loreth –– which wouldn’t be much, given the isolationist tendencies of its sentient inhabitants, but it ought to keep Anakin busy for a couple of hours, and remind him (again) of the importance of developing cross-cultural understandings.

 

In the meantime, Obi-Wan went to see Yoda.

 

: : :

 

Obi-Wan had been right about the lack of detailed information on Loreth in the Archives. Anakin read through the main database entry in less than half an hour; it didn’t tell him much. Loreth was a small planet with an oxygen atmosphere and watery surface, both of which were strong indicators for an eco-system that would support humanoid life. The girl they had met yesterday pretty obviously fell into that category, so this wasn’t much of a surprise. What  _was_  a surprise was the total absence of trading partnerships; how did they  _survive_  out there with no interplanetary trade agreements? The records didn’t even show any raw-ore mining operations; the “EXPORTS” heading listed only _handicrafts, animal pelts, finished weapons_. There were no entries for “SOCIAL STRUCTURE” or “LOCAL CUSTOMS,” but the “DANGEROUS WILDLIFE” section got a workout.

 

 _The natives of Loreth are highly xenophobic,_  he read, scrolling carefully down the page in case Obi-Wan decided to quiz him later. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t; that was the point. A Jedi had to be ready  _all_  the time, not just when he was given fair warning.  _For this reason, they have little interaction with the outside galaxy, and not much is known about their native culture. They are human in appearance, but the presence of some genetic peculiarities has led a minority of scientists to speculate that the humans of Loreth actually represent the emergence of a distinct sub-species, developed in isolation after their world was first colonized by humans some three thousand years ago. Critics maintain that, even in strict isolation, three thousand years would not be enough breed a genetically identifiable sub-species without the use of genomic manipulation techniques which have never been developed for the complexities of sentient use._

 

“Okay, so we don’t even know what they are,” Anakin muttered, disgruntled, and kept scrolling.

 

: : :

 

“Understand your concern, I do not,” Master Yoda was saying. He gave his gimer stick a thoughtful tap and looked up, tilting his head to regard Obi-Wan with wise old eyes. “What tell you your feelings, hm?”

 

“That I should be mindful, Master,” said Obi-Wan; not surprisingly, this rote answer failed to impress the old Jedi Master. “I’m not sure. I feel ... curious. Very alert. Almost as if I were waiting for something, or dreading it. And ... there’s something about this girl.”

 

Qui-Gon had said much the same thing about Anakin, once. Had he felt this, then? Obi-Wan didn’t think so. What he had felt near Orun in the garden last night had been nothing like the sense of explosive potential that always surrounded Anakin. Orun felt ... sudden and uncertain, not so much a catalyst of possibilities as a step missed in the dark, that weightless instant of disorientation. She left him with a strange urgency, an uneasy need to  _know_.

 

He sighed. “I can’t even say for certain whether this prompting comes from within myself or the Force.”

 

“If at one with the Force you are, no difference there is,” Yoda answered sternly. “But wise is this, young Obi-Wan? Heretics, her people are. If danger you fear to your apprentice, then away we should keep them, hm? Separate.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan hesitated. “You really think Orun is dangerous?”

 

It was Yoda’s turn to sigh. “Say that, I did not,” he reminded Obi-Wan, sounding weary. “ _Know_  that, I do not.” He planted his gimer stick firmly between them and leaned on it with both his ancient hands. “Sensed evil in Ryn Orun, I have not. Dedicated is she. Willing to serve, always. But  _trust_  the Jedi, she does not. And fear is a path to the dark side.” His ears flatted in admonishment. “Know this, you should.”

 

There could only be one answer to that. “Yes, Master.”

 

Yoda whacked him on the ankle with the end of his stick, apparently just for emphasis. “Hmp!” he declared imperatively. And then, obviously done with the lecture, he looked away and started walking again.

 

“Access to Orun’s information I can give you,” he said. “Medical files, performance records ... not secret to those authorized by the Council are these things. Arrange for her to meet with you, I can. Hm. But only  _you_  can decide what questions you must ask. And if put her in your Padawan’s path, you do –– change. Always dangerous it is.”

 

 _In other words, you’re on your own._

 

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan hesitated. “Thank you.”

 

“May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.”

 

“And with you, Master.”

 

: : :

 

Anakin was reading an entry on the history of Force philosophy that had been tagged “loreth” –– half of which was security-locked, and available only by special permission from the Council –– when he saw Ryn Orun again, as though his own assignment had somehow conjured her presence.

 

She was standing halfway across the reading room, staring at him with a stricken look on her face. When she saw him looking back, she raised one hand in a cautious wave.

 

Anakin hesitated just a second, then waved back.

 

Their eyes met. The silence stretched out as Anakin watched her shift awkwardly in place, biting her lip and looking about as miserable as he’d ever seen anybody look in a library. He was about to turn away and give her some privacy when she seemed to reach a decision; her chin came up, her face settled into a mask of resolution, and suddenly Ryn was coming toward him.

 

“Look,” she said hurriedly, stopping just short of his study carrel and fidgeting a little. “I know you’re busy. I won’t take up much of your time. I just want to say ...” She stopped to swallow, and spoke again, more slowly. “I’m sorry. For yesterday. I know I made you uncomfortable, and ... I apologize.”

 

“...thanks,” said Anakin, a little thrown by the intensity of her regret. “Me too. For knocking you down, I mean.”

 

“I ––” She looked down at the surface of his desk, blushing furiously for some reason Anakin couldn’t identify. Color flooded her pale skin, not so much scarlet as fuchsia sweeping over the sharp angles of her cheekbones. “No, that was ... fine. It was fine.” She laid one hand on the top of the abbreviated wall that separated Anakin’s carrel from the empty one to his right, gripping it tightly –– a gesture of blessing, or maybe of farewell; he didn’t know. “I’ll let you get back to work,” she said, and then paused, looking up to meet his eyes. Her own were clear and green, and –– to Anakin’s surprise and dismay –– bright with unshed tears. “It was good to meet you, Anakin Skywalker. May the Force be with you.”

 

She dropped her hand and turned to walk away; but in that instant, Anakin felt the source of her misery, a loneliness so acute that it seemed to overwhelm all other trace of her presence; and he didn’t so much sense her pain anew as finally  _recognize_  it.

 

It reminded him of his first months in the Temple, before he met Tru. When he hadn’t made any friends and he wasn’t like the other kids ...

 

He didn’t want to talk to her again. The intensity of her focus made him uneasy, especially after his conversation with Obi-Wan about  _animal instincts_. She was right; she  _did_  make him uncomfortable. But she was also clearly unhappy. He could let her walk away alone, but ...

 

 _The biggest problem in this universe is that nobody helps each other._

 

“Wait!” he called, earning several disapproving looks from other students nearby. But Ryn had turned back to face him, her expression politely inquisitive, at odds with her presence in the Force. “Listen,” he said, pretty sure he was going to regret this but also positive that here was a rare, easy chance to do the right thing –– to make the galaxy a slightly better place. “Master Obi-Wan sent me here to find out everything I could about Loreth, but ... there’s not much here.” He tried out a friendly smile. “Maybe you could help me?”

 

She took a single step toward him, hovering on the verge of flight. “What do you want to know?”

 

Anakin shrugged, trying to look non-threatening. “Anything.” He tilted his head back, still seated, to look up at her. “What do you like to eat?”

 

There was something odd about Ryn’s smile –– slow and a little tentative, as if she knew what to do but didn’t have a lot of practice.

 

Anakin smiled back, letting his own grin widen in response.

 

Her eyes lit, and the smile turned suddenly real and easy, the transformation startling as it swept over her face. Anakin felt his breath catch unexpectedly, a little hitch of surprise. And then ...

 

“Okay,” said Ryn.

 

: : :

 

 

In the city of Theed, Naboo’s young Queen fingered a necklace carved by childish hands out of a japor snippet as she prepared to pass on her throne to its next occupant. Beyond Wild Space, Kitraal Orun fought a losing battle against encroaching slave ships from the dead space between galaxies. Somewhere on a Mid-Rim world, Count Dooku of Serenno fomented dissent.

 

And in 500 Republica, at the heart of the Republic, a shadow brooded.


	4. he who has ears to hear (let him hear)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan pursues his investigation, with a little help from the Force, and the Padawan teaches the Master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **Author's Notes:**  
>  1) In addition to the "rough-cut" Obi-Wan scenes I posted for feedback yesterday (which I have tweaked slightly), Part IV includes a scene with Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ryn, and an extended interaction between Master and Padawan that (hopefully) puts the rest of the sequence into perspective a bit,  
> re-centering it around the Master/Padawan relationship.  I worry that it turns a bit fluffy at the end, but … that's definitely an improvement over creepy?    
> 2) Thanks once more to the following people:  
> 
>   
> [  
> **estora**  
> ](http://estora.livejournal.com/)  
> 
> 
>   
>   ,   
> 
> 
>   
> [  
>  **chameleon_irony**  
> ](http://chameleon-irony.livejournal.com/)  
> 
> 
>   
>   ,   
> 
> 
>   
> [  
>  **pronker**  
> ](http://pronker.livejournal.com/)  
> 
> 
>   
>   ,   
> 
> 
>   
> [  
>  **hikarific**  
> ](http://hikarific.livejournal.com/)  
> 
> 
>   
>   , and   
> 
> 
>   
> [  
>  **kittywriter**  
> ](http://kittywriter.livejournal.com/)  
> 
> 
>   
>   , all of whom have commented on drafts over the last few days; and to   
> 
> 
>   
> [  
>  **darth_eldritch**  
> ](http://darth-eldritch.livejournal.com/)  
> 
> 
>   
>    and   
> 
> 
>   
> [  
>  **ansketil_rose**  
> ](http://ansketil-rose.livejournal.com/)  
> 
> 
>   
>   , both of whom have helped me re-evaluate the meaning of "original character" in important ways.    
> 3) Please leave feedback!  I can't tell you how helpful it has been to receive comments on the revision process, or how rewarding it has been to try and incorporate readers' suggestions –– as I noted above, some of the ones that confused and frustrated me the most when I received them have led to the best changes in the story.  It means so much to me, you have no idea. I am especially interested in feedback on the dialogue in the second half of the chapter, as despite several edits I still think it feels a little clunky (although, considering the dialogue in the films, I could probably just pass that off as part of the SW charm…). 

**  
**

 

_____________

 **Disclaimer:**  
 Star Wars belongs to George Lucas.  This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it. 

  
 _I know it hurts I know you're bruised  
But it's only the inside  
I know you're lost and you're confused  
But it's only on the inside ...   
                       ~ "Love Alone," Thriving Ivory_

___

Obi-Wan followed up on Yoda’s offer before going to retrieve Anakin from the Archives.  A few extra minutes of waiting wouldn’t hurt his Padawan; they might even teach him some much-needed patience. 

 

 _Unlikely_. 

 

He detoured to the Temple’s medical center to retrieve Ryn Orun’s records.  It took a while to locate them because they were listed under a different first name:  _Orun, Areth’ryn Llewellyn_ , with several honorifics following, and the Padawan managing the records desk had to try a series of different search parameters before she found the right file. 

 

“There’s a lot here,” she said, examining the screen critically.  “You want all of it?” 

 

“I –– yes,” said Obi-Wan, frowning.   _A lot of it? Has the girl been ill?_  

 

The Padawan shrugged, as if to disclaim all responsibility for the volume of material, and pulled out a datareader.  “It’ll just be a minute.” 

 

Obi-Wan nodded, but apparently the Padawan was feeling chatty.  “How’s An –– Padawan Skywalker?” 

 

Obi-Wan lifted a desultory eyebrow.  “Anakin is fine, thank you.” 

 

 

“I haven’t seen him for a while.  Missions?” 

 

“Yes, we’ve been keeping busy.” 

 

“I’ll bet he likes it that way.  But we miss him around here.”  She blushed faintly.  “In the Temple, I mean.  He’s, uh ... a good sparring partner.” 

 

  
_Oh, Anakin.  What have you been up to?_   


 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said.  “I don’t believe I caught your name.” 

 

She perked a little.  “Padawan Dresnell, sir.  I took a Comparative Literatures class with Padawan Skywalker a few months ago.” 

 

 _Comparative Literatures._   How Anakin had hated that class.  And Obi-Wan was quite sure that he had never mentioned a Padawan Dresnell.  “I’ll be sure to tell Anakin you asked about him.” 

 

“Do, please, sir.  Master Kenobi.”  Her blush deepened as she dropped the filled datareader into his hand.  “Tell him Arayna said hello.” 

 

“I most certainly will,” Obi-Wan assured her, lifting the ‘reader in farewell as he edged toward the door. 

 

 _And I’ll ask Anakin why I’ve never heard of you before._  

 

: : : 

 

He flipped casually through Orun’s medical records as he strolled back to the Archives, looking for ... he wasn’t sure, exactly.  Something that would explain that odd sense of resonance he’d gotten from her yesterday.  She felt significant –– or maybe it wasn’t  _he_ r at all; maybe it was the distant planet of which she was supposed to be a representative.  The threat of a heretic philosophy.  Obi-Wan didn’t know, and the lack of clarity about his own instincts was making him uneasy. 

 

 _Be mindful of the Living Force,_  Qui-Gon’s voice whispered, and Obi-Wan felt his throat catch painfully before he could release his renewed grief into the Force. 

 

 _Yes, Master._  

 

Orun was younger than he’d thought; based on their two brief encounters, he would have guessed her at Anakin’s age or a little older, maybe Ferus Olin’s.  But according to the documents in front of him, she was not yet thirteen standard years old. 

 

It was not so surprising, he supposed; he must have known at least a few female agemates who had attained their physical maturity before being sent to the Agri-Corps, though he hadn’t been paying all that much attention at the time.  But Orun –– despite her obvious reaction to Anakin –– seemed unusually self-possessed for a girl of twelve, and that had to be indicative of  _something_.  The girl’s status in her own society, maybe ... when Orun first came to the Temple, Obi-Wan remembered hearing that she was some kind of aristocrat, the daughter of an important family.  He and Anakin had been fresh off their conflict over Podracing and Bog Divinian then, and other things had seemed more important. It wasn’t altogether unheard of for young people to take an active role in politics, after all; Padmé Amidala had been only fourteen during the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo, and that had turned out all right.  But it was  _unusual_ , and now he wondered:  _why_  had Loreth sent Ryn Orun, an untried girl, in payment of their perceived debt?  And more importantly, why had the Council allowed her presence here, in the Temple itself, where she might foment dangerous dissent? 

 

 _What_ really _happened to Nezzeil Tam?_  

 

It soon became apparent that the size of Orun’s file derived not from a history of illness, but from the sheer volume of information that had be collected about her biostrata –– the resting equilibrium of her body as a living organism in interaction with its environment.  Probably the Healers had been curious because of the –– he double-checked, just to make sure ––  _fluctuating_  midichlorian count.  That should have been stable, but Orun’s readings were all over the chart –– mostly at the low end, but wildly inconsistent nonetheless.  They had to be driving the Healers crazy.  And so they had been trying to figure out what made her  _work_ , essentially by ... 

 

It took him a minute to sort it out, and even then he had to stop and go through the evidence again.  But it was all here, before his eyes, obvious once you know what to look for.  Most of it was probably harmless; Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine Vokara Che participating in the willful endangerment of any living being.  But the fact remained that the reams of data he was holding in his hands represented what amounted to a  _lot_  of experiments and their (carefully documented) results.  Someone had deliberately put a young girl’s system under stress, again and again, to measure its biostratic responses.  And although, according to the reports, Orun remained in excellent health, Obi-Wan had spent enough time in the medical center himself as a boy to know it wasn’t somewhere anybody would _choose_  to pass a day or three.  

 

Orun’s first few months in the Jedi Temple could not have been happy ones. 

 

But none of the data provided could tell him what he really wanted to know: why did he have this uneasy feeling that he was missing something important here?  And was it something about Orun herself, unlikely as that seemed –– or something else, connected to her or her people in some way he didn’t see yet?  Did Loreth pose a threat, however distantly, to the Republic? 

 

 _Only you can decide what questions you must ask,_  Yoda had told him. 

 

 _But how will I know where to look?_  

 

 _Don’t think,_  Qui-Gon used to say.   _Feel._  

 

Except Obi-Wan had never been very good at that.  The Living Force didn’t  _speak_  to him the way it had to Qui-Gon; he couldn’t surrender to it effortlessly, as his mentor had done, much less  _live_  in it, intuitively, the way Anakin did.  Obi-Wan struggled with the present, with immediacy; with not  _worrying_  about the future, but simply  _being_  in the moment.   _Anticipation is distraction_ , Qui-Gon had coached him, over and over again; but for Obi-Wan, the Unifying Force came easier. 

 

 _Patience,_  he decided, stepping through the looming doors into the Archives.   _I must meditate and seek the will of the Force, not be guided by my own curiosity.  As often as I counsel Anakin to look before he leaps ... that’s a lesson I could use myself, sometimes.  And I need to keep my focus in the here and now, look beneath my feet and not too far ahead of them . . ._  

 

He turned a corner into the study area, still lecturing himself, and discovered that Fate –– or maybe Anakin –– had done some of the leaping for him. 

 

: : : 

 

It should not have come as a surprise that Anakin would choose to befriend Ryn.  She was far from her home planet and demonstrably isolated, and that must have spoken to Anakin’s heart in ways that no other Jedi would ever fully understand.  There was nothing more certain than that his Padawan would want to help her; his compassion did him great credit.  But how had it happened so  _fast_? 

 

“Master!” exclaimed the boy, glancing up at Obi-Wan’s approach.  A few of the other researchers nearby craned their necks to send admonishing looks his way, but Anakin only winced and lowered his tone.  “Look who I found! You told me to research everything I could find on Loreth and Ryn has been helping me fill in the gaps!” He nodded to his companion, already scrambling to her feet. 

 

“Master Kenobi.”  She bowed very carefully, her arms perfectly straight at her sides. 

 

“Miss Orun,” Obi-Wan greeted her, nodding politely in response.  “What an unexpected pleasure, to meet you again so soon.” 

 

But if he had hoped to fluster her with the insinuation that their meeting might not be accidental –– or a pleasure –– he was destined to be thwarted.  “Likewise,” Orun answered neutrally.  “I am gratified to have been of service.” 

 

 _Oh, right.  Filling in the gaps.  With what, I wonder?_  

 

“Yes, of course,” said Obi-Wan.  “Thank you for assisting my Padawan.” 

 

“Not at all, Master Kenobi.  The pleasure was all mine.” 

 

 _I hope not,_  Obi-Wan thought. 

 

Aloud he said, “We appreciate your help.  Perhaps we may get a chance to follow up later? At the moment, if you would excuse us ...” 

 

“Certainly.”  She gave him a different, unfamiliar bow, hands pressed flat together before her chest, and turned to Anakin.  “Padawan Skywalker.”  There was something curious about her face: unsmiling joy.  “It is good to have met you.” 

 

And Anakin, to Obi-Wan’s surprise, blushed and ducked his head, suddenly bashful.  “Um, yeah.  You too,” he said, gracelessly.  “I mean ...” He shook his head, recovering.  “Thanks. For the help.” 

 

She did smile then, the expression lighting up her face like a meteor burning through a dark night.  It took Obi-Wan aback with its sheer intensity.  “Let me know if I can help you again.” 

 

“Yeah,” said Anakin, shifting a little.  “Do you ... how do I find you?” 

 

That made her smile quirk a little, turning crooked at the edges.  “Here,” she said, stretching out a hand to him.  “May I?” 

 

Anakin stared at her hand for a just a second, then nodded and closed his eyes. 

 

Obi-Wan tensed, but all Orun did was to lay her hand lightly against the line of Anakin’s face, from temple to jaw, and briefly close her own eyes.  

 

“Can you feel me now?” she asked softly as she stepped away.  Her voice was not quite steady, and Obi-Wan wondered if they had come close to a repeat of yesterday’s blackout.  

 

Anakin was frowning in concentration.  “I think so.” 

 

“Call me,” Orun said simply, as though that made any sense, “and I will come.” 

 

With a nod at Obi-Wan, she added, “It is how we find our warriors in battle.  The touch should last a few days, no more.”  Her grin included Anakin.  “There you are, another Lorethan thing you have learned today.”  She bowed to them both again and turned on her heel, beating her retreat in a measured, long-legged stride. 

 

“Master?” said Anakin, and Obi-Wan turned from his study of Orun’s exit to find his apprentice watching him anxiously.  “Did I do it wrong?  I looked up everything on Loreth, just like you asked me to.  But then Ryn came over to apologize, and she was so lonely, and I thought ... you didn’t say I had to find finish the assignment all by myself!” 

 

Recognizing Anakin’s defensive tactics –– they always bore an alarming edge of fear and anger, and Obi-Wan hated to imagine how he had learned that –– Obi-Wan stopped him with both hands planted lightly on his Padawan’s tough young shoulders, so much broader now than they had been only a few months ago. 

 

 _He’s growing up._  

 

“Anakin,” he said to get his attention, and waited for the boy to meet his eyes.  “I am not angry.  I know you did what you felt was right.  But ...” He sighed and glanced in the direction Orun had gone.  “I can’t help wondering whether this girl is the best companion for you.  Yesterday you didn’t even want to see her again.  What has changed?” 

 

Anakin shifted under his grip, and Obi-Wan let go.  “You’ll just lecture me about attachments,” he muttered, looking away.  “ _Again_.” 

 

 _Attachments?_  Obi-Wan thought, perplexed.   _Oh, I’ve got a bad feeling about this._  

 

It was an effort to keep his voice even and free of judgment.  “Tell me anyway,” he suggested quietly.  “I can’t teach you if you won’t talk to me.” 

 

It was hard sometimes, to tell whether he was getting through.  Anakin shuffled his feet for a few minutes, shrugging irritably at intervals, a sort of visible punctuation to his inner thoughts. Obi-Wan waited. 

 

“She was lonely,” his Padawan said finally, looking up to gauge his master’s reaction with wary blue eyes.  “I know what you’re going to say about attachments and letting go, but ... I remember what it’s like to have a family and be away from them.  I remember what how much it hurt, leaving Mom.  Even if coming to the Temple was the right thing to do, it  _hurt_.”  Obi-Wan noticed the past tense and didn’t trust it for a minute, but he held his peace, letting Anakin talk.  “That’s the way Ryn was feeling today, like she was all alone and she couldn’t tell anybody.” 

 

That had the ring of truth in it; he’d guessed right, then, about the recognition of shared pain that had called to his apprentice’s generous nature.  And it was something of a relief, to realize that Anakin hadn't meant an attachment to  _her_ , a girl he'd only met that day before.  But that didn’t mean the situation wasn’t going to cause problems. 

 

“So you wanted to help her,” Obi-Wan surmised, since Anakin didn’t seem prepared to elaborate.   _Just like Qui-Gon, always picking up strays._  

 

“She helped me, too!” Anakin protested, gesturing at his datareader, its screen still blinking cooperatively.  “Ryn knew lots of things that weren’t in the Archives.  And she was ... nice.”  Anakin lifted his chin.  “She is a good person.  I felt it.” 

 

Obi-Wan ran a hand down his beard, considering.   _Such vehemence, Anakin ..._  But that might mean nothing.  Anakin’s emotions had always run hotter than Obi-Wan knew how to measure.  It was a stumbling block in his training, but it didn’t necessarily mean that anything was amiss –– well, more amiss than usual –– here. 

 

“Miss Orun may be a good person,” he said at last, slowly.  “And it is a good impulse to try and make her feel better. Your compassion is one of your finest qualities, Anakin.  But you must also be cautious, my young Padawan.  You give your trust so easily.  And there is much we do not know about the Lorethans.” 

 

Anakin met his gaze steadily, in that way he had that was not quite a challenge and yet never failed to make Obi-Wan feel put on the spot, just the same.  “I thought that was why you asked me to research them, Master.”  

 

“I ––” But Obi-Wan cut off his own retort.  Anakin’s instinctive compassion had seen clearly what his master’s more jaded experience had failed to recognize.  Whatever mystery there was here, Orun could hardly be the cause of it.  She was exactly what Anakin had seen her to be: a lonely young girl, far from home.  From that point of view, the question became: not  _what is she doing here?_  but  _who is using her?_  

 

Master Yoda had tried to tell him.   _Only you can decide what questions you must ask._  And Obi-Wan, sensing a threat, had asked the wrong ones, out of fear for himself and his Padawan.  But Anakin had seen only a fellow being in pain and asked the right question without even trying:  _How can I help_? 

 

“You are right, Padawan,” he said finally, and then had to smile at the startled look on Anakin’s face, as though he had been bracing for an argument and now didn’t know what to do with himself.  “Sometimes it is best to act out of compassion first.  We will meditate on this later.”  That dimmed Anakin’s transparent delight in his praise somewhat; Obi-Wan couldn’t decide whether he was tempering Anakin’s effervescence or facing another bout of the sulks, or even which was worse: the fact that Anakin hated meditation, or the way he cared so deeply what others, his master included, thought of him.   _If only Qui-Gon_  ... That line of thinking led nowhere but regret.  “For now,” he added gently, keeping a careful eye on Anakin’s expression, “perhaps you should show me what you have learned today.” 

 

And his apprentice lit up, such an alarmingly easy touch.   _The galaxy will take that from him, fast enough._   “Yes, Master.” 

 

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Changes from the   
> [previous Chapter Two](../../117824/chapters/165872)  
>  include:  
> 
> 
>   
> 
>   * A shift in perspective from Obi-Wan investigating Ryn's unusually intense sexual response to Anakin, which as several people have pointed out, looked like an excerpt from the SNL video.  A bad idea all around.  Special thanks go to   
> 
> 
> [ **estora**](http://estora.livejournal.com/)
> 
>   
>    and   
> 
> 
> [ **darth_eldritch**](http://darth-eldritch.livejournal.com/)
> 
>   
>    for commenting extensively, over the last couple of years, on the meanings of Ryn's sexual development and how it could be integrated more effectively into the story arc. This ought to be more realistic all around. And less creepy. Yeah. 
>   
> 
>   * The shift in Obi-Wan's center of interest also opened up the territory for Obi-Wan to focus his curiosity on a more cogent question: not "why is this kid hot for my Padawan?" but "what the hell is she doing in the Temple, anyway?"  Alert readers are going to be asking this as well, and in any case it feels a bit more "in-character" for Obi-Wan.  (Props go to   
> 
> 
> [ **estora**](http://estora.livejournal.com/)
> 
>   
>   for helping me think through that.) 
>   
> 
>   * Another change is the stronger emphasis on scientific investigation. The credit for this re-construction goes mostly to   
> 
> 
> [ **hikarific**](http://hikarific.livejournal.com/)
> 
>   
>   , who asked good questions and pointed out specific points at which the existing explanations were not clear, or were so buried in awkward dialogue that the reader could not find their significance. In the new version, we see Obi-Wan investigating _before_ their conersation.  This is important on two levels:
>   
> 
>   * a) it does a better job of setting up the biomedical basis for the (already-noted) physical attractiveness of Lorethan females; that wasn't really clear in the earlier version, leaving readers confused as to what's so special about those folks and why we should care;  and
>   
> 
>   * b) it brings in the biomedical experiments that are part of Ryn's "work" at the Temple much earlier than was true for the original version.
>   
> 

> 
> 2) Throughout the life of the FFV, one of the most consistent criticisms has been that Ryn is portrayed as being too signifiant early in the story - why should she be special?  I have always struggled with understanding that particular feedback, for two reasons:  
> a) Because I doubt seriously that we would see anybody saying, "this character annoys me; why should we be interested in what Anakin thinks?" and it therefore strikes me as (perhaps unconsciously) partaking of a general trend toward "fear and loathing" directed at OCs;   
> but (even) more importantly   
> b) Because I never thought Ryn   
>  _was_  
>   all that special, despite readers' assertions to the contrary.  When I was writing the story, I thought of her primarily as a messed-up kid who finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and as a consequence falls in love with the (catastrophically) wrong guy.
> 
> This leads to:   
> 3) MY FAVORITE PART: The reason why I point all this out now is that I have tried to take the feedback to heart and "suggest a new strategy, R2" –– that is, instead of assuming that readers will recognize Ryn's peripherality to the main events and just throwing her into the story as I would any other character, I have allowed the _other_  characters to ask much the same questions readers have been asking: i.e, "Who is this kid and why should we care?"And Obi-Wan, at least, is finding his answers in the Force; Something Weird is going on, and he has a Bad Feeling about it.  Anakin, by contrast, is just a nice guy.  And ultimately I think that makes a better story anyway, regardless of what position you take on Ryn: the new version enables us to spend more time developing Anakin and Obi-Wan, individually and as a team, and I think that adds emotional depth to their interactions with each other and Ryn (not to mention the other Jedi).  This shift is in many ways the defining change of the revised version, and I am (as you can probably tell) very excited about it.  


End file.
